Bloodstains
by ichangedmyname
Summary: A hitman from Liberty city travels to Vice. Violence, some sexual content.
1. Fun In The Rain

Liberty City, January,1987

"You're beautiful, you know that" Nick Brennan told the girl as she slid up and down in his lap. He smiled at her, showing nicotine stained teeth and trying to fix her gaze with his warm chocolate brown eyes.

"Uh-huh" she said, giving no visual response she had heard him. She was a consummate professional and there was no need for sweet talk now they were in the act.

"I mean, for a whore" he said, his smile broadening. He lied, she wasn't beautiful. He pulled her to him, feeling that he was close. In a few seconds he came inside her. He sat back and relaxed against the seat, enjoying the feeling of warmth and happiness. She pulled away and sat down next to him. She quickly pulled her top back on and her pants up and sat in the back of the car, waiting for him to move.

He leaned over her and opened the door for her. She stepped out and as she did he pushed her roughly with one hand so that she tripped and fell. She landed on the floor and her head hit concrete with a crack. Reaching into the front of the car he pulled a gun out of the glove compartment. He stepped out of the car and into the cold of the Liberty city winter. He stretched as he did so, straightening out his back. His body reminded him he wasn't so young anymore with a short sharp jolt of pain up his spine. He frowned and the lines on his handsome face showed up more than usual.

The prostitute wasn't moving but he shot her in the head, just to be sure. The silencer muffled the shot just enough that any police officer listening could disregard it as a car backfiring and go back to his donuts. She hadn't made a sound. Nick was a little disappointed. He liked it when they screamed.

He pulled up his fly and got back in the car. Starting the car he pulled out of the alley and into the traffic. At the end of the street he made a right and drove past the adult bookstore and sex club and on towards the park.

He didn't feel satisfied. He toyed with the idea of going to visit his wife but felt no real inclination to see her. Lately he didn't see her much. He had married her seven years ago. She was a Forelli, he needed a way into the Forelli crime syndicate. Perfect arrangement.

But now things were different. The Forellis had almost wiped out in their war with that bastard down in Vice. The Leones were taking over. His wife had lost her looks with the passing of time. Now she had lost what little attraction she used to have for him. She was of no use to him anymore and they were a liability, her and the kid. He couldn't be looking after them when it was hard enough to survive himself.

Thinking about the kid brought waves of resentment. A grimace crossed his face. The kid had been a mistake. He didn't want kids, she didn't want kids, but there it was. Corinna forgot to take the pill on the important day or something. And now they were stuck with it.

Nick supposed he was lucky he only had the one. He believed in putting it around, he didn't believe in contraception. Of course he stretched to the pill for his wife, because there was no way he could afford another mouth to feed. But with him, with other women, no way. He believed in living dangerously, otherwise what was the fucking point? Disease didn't worry him. He had a sneaking suspicion he was indestructible. So far life was proving him right. Over the years he had watched his friends in the business die around him. He remained unscathed.

But these days you had to be on edge all the time. Alert to the fact that around every corner there could be some Leone goon ready to kill you for past crimes.

It started to rain. He decided there and then that he was leaving Liberty. There was nothing left for him here. He had to get out. Head somewhere warm and sunny.


	2. Alcohol Break

Nick pulled up outside his regular pub, the Drunken Dog. It was raining so heavily that by the time he made the few steps to the entrance his dark hair was already soaked and plastered to his forehead. He stepped inside to the familiar smell of smoke and beer.

Nick stood in the doorway, wiping the rain from his face. A few people turned to look at him. He was tall, a big guy and was an imposing figure. He caught the eye of one man at the bar who looked away quickly. Most of the patrons, knowing him from his regular visits, paid him no attention. A young woman in the corner continued looking at him. He smiled at her and she smiled back. She looked at him with obvious interest. Nick was used to female interest and appreciated it but at the moment he just wanted a drink. He paid her no further attention and made his way to the bar.

"Hey man, bitch of a day" his drinking buddy Leo greeted him.

"Too right" he answered. "Two pints of Stella" he said to the barmaid. He watched the girl as she filled the glasses.

The Drunken Dog had been his regular haunt when he was young, before he became part of the Forelli organisation. After joining the organisation he visited here less often, preferring the mobs places in Portland. Nowdays he stayed as far away from the Forellis as possible. What was left of the Forelli gang was being destroyed by the Leones. Nick had distanced himself from them, not wanting to go down the road of loyalty and certain death. Despite that the last few days had proved to him he could not stay in Liberty. He knew there was a price on his head. In the last few days he had avoided two potential hits only by his quick-thinking and skill with a weapon. He felt he had been foolish to try to stay in Liberty so long. Though not a leader of the organisation he was well known and respected for his skill as a hitman and as someone who could get things done. He had killed far too many Leones for them to leave him alone.

The barmaid set the glasses down in front of him. Nick picked up the glass but paused before drinking, deep in thought, contemplating his home. Nick had grown up here and lived in Liberty all of his life, excluding a short spell working in San Andreas. He loved Liberty City, enjoyed the hectic and dark atmosphere the city had. He didn't appreciate being run out of his home town, but he knew he had no choice. He couldn't be on red alert twenty-four hours a day. If he stayed he would be dead within the week.

"Been thinking of heading south" he said to Leo.

"Taking a holiday with your family?"

"No man, on my own" he took a drink from the glass, "probably not coming back. So more like a permanent holiday from my family."

"Right" said Leo, distaste obvious in his voice. Leo had often listened to Nick talk about his wife and kid as if they were nothing. It annoyed him. He often felt guilty about the lack of time he spent with his own young children.

"What?" asked Nick, not liking the tone of his friends voice.

"You're going to leave your wife here to bring up your kid alone?"

"Fuck 'em" Nick answered angrily. Who was this guy to question his business? Some drunk in a bar who had never done anything with his life. "Who made you fucking moral guardian."

"Just not something I can agree with" said Leo, taking a drink of his beer and turning away to signal the end of the conversation.

Nick stood up and downed his beer in one go, his party trick. He would freely admit that he was a terrible husband and father so he wasn't really angry, more irritated that this guy thought he could judge him. "You remember, while your stuck here in this shithole, working your ass off for your ungrateful brats, I will be a free man in Florida, sitting on a beach, surrounded by naked women." He got no reaction from Leo. "Hey asshole! Are you listening to me!" he shouted. He kicked against Leo's bar stool, hard enough to make it fall. Leo jumped off before it hit the ground, just managing to stay on his feet.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!". Leo walked towards Nick. He swung a punch which Nick easily avoided. Nick calculated that he had all the advantages in this fight, though Leo matched him in height and weight Nick was fitter and a more skilled fighter. And Leo would most likely have been in the bar drinking all day.

People around them scattered as the two squared up for a fight. Those further away moved closer, eager to see the violence.

Leo flew at Nick but he evaded him with ease. Nick struck back, hitting him hard in the face. He felt something break under his fist. A line of blood appeared at the corner of Leo's mouth.

They backed away from each other slightly. Nick stood and waited for Leo to move. The adrenalin was pumping now and it was hard to stop himself going in guns blazing. He knew from previous experience that the way to stay on top in combat situations was to keep his cool.

Leo aimed a punch at Nicks face. Nick managed to move away in time so the fist scraped past the side of his head. Leo was left off balance by the force of his strike. Immediately Nick hit him hard in the stomach. Leo staggered back. Nick drove forward with another punch to the face. Leo fell to the floor with a thud. Nick was about to go in for the kill but was restrained by spectators who had gathered round to watch the fight.

"Alright, break it up". A heavily built man Nick recognised as the bars owner emerged from behind the bar. "You, get out of here" he pointed at Nick. He looked down at Leo who was lying on the floor in a pool of blood. "Sheila, Phone an ambulance" he looked at the floor, "and bring a mop."

Nick pushed back through the crowd of spectators. He walked out of the door and into the rain. He stopped and looked around him. It was night. Liberty's scum was beginning to pour out into the streets. His adrenalin was up and he could use to work off some aggression. An idea struck him and he smiled.

Nick got in his Kuruma and started the engine. He would leave tomorrow, after he had taken care of some business.


	3. At Home

Nick stood outside his house in Shoreside Vale, waiting. The rain poured down on him. Corinna had changed the locks since the last time he had been here. He rang the doorbell again. She was taking her time, probably knew it was him.

The door opened. A small child stood in the doorway. He was about six or seven years old and the resemblance to his father was striking. He looked like a smaller version of him. The only difference was his eyes, which were a pale green as opposed to Nicks dark brown.

"Hey Mike" Nick said. The child got out of the way as Nick walked in and closed the door behind him. Nick walked through the hallway to the living room, Mike followed behind him. Nick's eyes scanned the room, it was clean and well furnished. The television was on and a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles video was playing. Not finding what he was looking for Nick turned back to his son.

"Where's your mother?" he asked. Mike glanced up at the ceiling to indicate upstairs. "Go get her" Nick ordered. The kid ran out of the room. Nick could hear him as he ran up the stairs.

Nick looked around the room again. It was too clean. Nothing here was his. He lit up a cigarette and let the smoke waft around the room, knowing how much Corinna would hate that.

He heard footsteps on the stairs again and his wife entered the room with Mike. She was a tall, dark-haired woman who had once been considered beautiful. Now she looked tired and old. The kid ran back to the sofa to watch his turtles video. For the millionth time, Nick thought. He didn't know how many times he had to yell at the kid to turn down his videos when he was trying to discuss business. He noticed the kid had all his turtle figurines positioned around him as though they were watching the video too.

Corinna noticed him looking at Mike. "They wont take him back at the school" she said "not while he refuses to speak." She glared at him, "its your fault, he would never have turned out like this if you weren't such a lousy father."

"He'll grow out of it" Nick said, taking a puff on his cigarette, daring Corinna to tell him to put it out.

"What are you doing here?" she asked after a few seconds of silence.

"I'm going away for a while"

"Of course" she interrupted. "So you came to say goodbye?" she asked sarcastically. "I don't know why you bother. You're never here anyway. You don't even live here anymore. How would we even know you were gone?"

"Don't give me this shit right now. I've heard it before."

"Where are you going? San Andreas?"

"Vice City."

Nick smiled when he saw the disgusted look on Corinna's face. "To work for him?" she spat.

"Who knows?" he goaded her. "Don't worry, I'll send you some money when I'm set up down there."

She folded her arms and looked away

Fun over, he got down to business. "I came by to pick up some of my stuff." He kept most of his things at his place in Trenton, but stored a few of his clothes and some of his more valuable possessions here.

"There's nothing of yours here"

"My clothes?"

"I threw them out"

"What about my guns?" He said, stepping forward, warning in his voice.

"They're up in the attic."

Nick headed to the top of the two story house. Even when he lived here it had been too big for the three of them. He wondered how Corinna had managed to keep it when the rest of the Forelli's were in such difficulty.

He opened the trapdoor to the attic and unfolded the ladder. He climbed up and looked around the dark space. His eyes adjusted to the dark and he began to look for his stuff. He pulled a box over into the light by the trapdoor, leaving trails of dust on the attic floor. He looked through several boxes before he found his. It was further back than the others and he had a feeling Corinna had placed it there on purpose. He sat down by the box and examined the contents.

He took out the guns one by one, checking them over for scratches, handling them lovingly. Most of them were spares but then he came to one that was special. His baby, his sniper rifle. He hadn't used this since that last hit he did for the Forellis, almost nine months ago. He held the gun up and looked through the view, reacquainting himself, with its weight, its feel. He had owned this a long time, took many lives with it, it had never failed him. It was a classic, customised to be up to the standard of newer models. He felt regret that he hadn't used it in so long. Tonight he would make up for that.


	4. Killing Leones

Nick lay on the roof watching the building across from him. It was opening night for the Leones. Their new club was getting a grand opening and Nick was here to make sure it was a memorable night for all. People had been entering and exiting the club all night and Nick had watched them come and go. He was waiting for the right moment. The mass exodus of the Leones once the club closed for the night.

They would be heading back to the St Marks area, which had been their turf for as long as Nick could remember. The leaders still lived there though now they owned most of Portland and Staunton Island. The Forellis had been forced into their remaining territory of Shoreside Vale. A nice place to live but it lacked the business opportunities of the red light and commercial districts. The Forellis were growing weaker and soon the Leones would take Shoreside too.

The club and its clientele looked outwardly respectable. Nick was sure it wouldn't stay that way too long. Today the whole Leone family seemed to have turned out for the occasion, children included. Most had left earlier in the night but those high up in the organisation had stayed on. Either to talk business or to toast the clubs health, Nick assumed.

It was a cold night. On the roof Nick was exposed to the elements. A cold wind whipped around him, chilling him despite his heavy leather jacket. Nick hardly felt it, he was so deep in concentration.

The lights in the club began to go out, starting with the neon sign on the front of the building. As they slowly flickered off and the club became darker Nick waited patiently. It was just gone five am. The only time when the streets of Portland could be described as quiet. Soon the morning rush would start. But right now the night was relatively silent, broken only by the occasional car or raised voice. It seemed odd in the usually noisy and busy area. It was so quiet he thought he could hear the hum of voices inside the club. A truck passed by, noise obliterating the small sounds he was straining to hear.

He got into position, looking through the sight on the sniper rifle at the door of the club. He tensed, ready for action. A man opened the door and walked outside. Nick lined up the sight and aimed the gun. The man was young, probably late teens. He leaned back against the wall and yawned. He looked as though he had drank more alcohol than he could hold.

"Luigi! Go get the car!" a voice shouted from inside the club.

"Yeah, yeah" Luigi shouted back, walking off in the direction of the park.

Nick waited five more minutes before a limo pulled up outside the club. Leones began to pour out of the building. Nick recognised a few of them. He waited until the last three figures walked out. The Don, Giovanni Leone and his son, Salvatore Leone, followed by his own young son, Joey, who looked like he was barely managing to stay awake. If Nick could kill those three that would do some serious damage to the Leones. He would be a legend. Three generations gone. He watched as one of the Leones locked the front doors to the club. Perfect.

Now was the time. He couldn't see through the tinted windows but he estimated where the drivers head was. He lined up his shot, pulled the trigger. The front window of the limo cracked as the bullet found its target.

Nick smiled to himself. Now the Leones would have no way to escape. He could take them out as they rushed to get back into the safety of the club. He was mistaken. Giovanni quickly got in the backseat of the limo and he knew he had missed. Nick shot at Salvatore as he pushed his son into the limo. The aim was bad and the bullet hit sidewalk. "Shit!" Nick muttered.

The limo pulled away with the three generations of the Leones inside. It moved erratically but far too fast for Nick to even try to shoot after it. He turned his attention to the six Leones still outside the club. He shot the first, Anthony Cipriani, in the head. His son, Toni junior, took off down the street. Two of the Leones were stupidly trying to open the doors to the club. Nick took them out with ease.

The remaining two ran towards the building the shots had come from, guns drawn, returning fire. Simon, the older of the two turned and ran to his right onto the street which led to the alleyway round the back of the building. His younger brother Luca ran in the other direction, cutting off any escape route for the sniper.

Simon ran into the alleyway. He could see the stairs to the roof of the building. He knew this area well from battles he had fought here against the Forellis. His brother appeared on the other side of the alley. He saw that Luca was about to run forward and put up a hand, signalling him to stop, silently urging caution.

They advanced slowly. The area was creepily silent now that all gunfire had stopped. They stayed close to the walls. Simon knew that the sniper wouldn't have been able to get away without one of them seeing.

They met in the middle of the alleyway. They looked identical in the dark. Same dark suit, same slicked back hair, same light build. Simon had a older face, prematurely lined from the pressures of life and supporting his family. His eyes were cautious and wary and burning with intelligence. Luca was younger by almost ten years. Right now his face showed emotion, pure anger at seeing three of his comrades gunned down. He was ready to make this bastard pay.

They stood with their backs to the wall of the building. Protected from gunfire by geometry. Simon kept his gun pointed up in case the sniper was foolish enough to look down over the wall. He listened and heard nothing.

Luca looked at Simon questioningly.

Simon nodded and began to back away from the wall, moving to the entrance of the alley. He could get a good view of the edge of the roof from here, anyone standing would be visible him. The streetlights would light the area just enough to make out an outline. The curve of the wall gave him some cover. He studied what he could see of the rooftops. He saw nothing and nodded to his brother.

Luca moved slowly to the stairs, gun raised, alert for any noise. Simon watched the roof as he did so, covering him.

Luca reached the stairs and put one foot on the bottom step. He waited, looking up and ahead at the roof. He could only see the edge from where he stood. It seemed clear. He stepped forward. The stairs creaked slightly as he put his weight fully on the lowest step. Slowly, listening intently for any sound he began to climb the stairs.

Up on the roof Nick waited.

Simon didn't see his brother climb the stairs. His eyes and gun were fixed on the darkness on top of the roof. He watched, waiting for movement.

On the roof Nick lay flat, sniper rifle trained on the top of the stairs. He could hear someone moving up towards him, step by step. They grew closer. Nick lay as still as a statue, calm and ready. He looked through the sight on his gun. He could see the top of the steps shake slightly with every step. He saw a gun emerge over the lip of the roof. Another step and he could see the arms of the man who held it.

Luca stopped. Another step and he would be able to see on the roof. He brought the gun down slightly, to eye level. He stepped forward.

The gunshot cracked through the night. Luca stopped mid-step and crumpled forward. He fell and slid down the steps, stopping halfway. On ground level Simon shot up at the roof and started to run. Above him Nick rolled to the side, picked up his Uzi and got to his feet. Simon reached the roof in a few seconds. He ran towards Nick, firing his pistol. Nick ran towards him, firing with his Uzi. Nicks accuracy and greater amount of bullets per second won out. The other man fell to the floor, clutching his stomach.

The bullets impacted in Simons gut. Simon staggered backwards and fell onto the stairs. He raised a hand to his stomach to test the damage and felt his shredded flesh. He pulled his hand away in pain, covered in hot, sticky blood. His gun slipped through his fingers and fell through the gap between the stairs. He heard the thump as it hit the ground. He couldn't move. His body was giving up on him. He was already dizzy from blood loss and couldn't think. Black dots danced in front of his eyes. He struggled to stay awake and conscious. He had to move, had to get away from here. He felt his senses dulling. Even the pain felt far away now. His body was distant, like this had happened to someone else and he was merely observing. He lay on the stairs, barely alive and unable to move.

Nick brushed the dirt off his blue jeans and adjusted his leather jacket. He walked back to his guns and quickly packed up. Others would be here soon, the cops or Leone reinforcements. No-one he wanted to wait around for. He pulled his rifle over his shoulder and walked down the stairs. He kicked Simon's body to the side. Nick didn't waste a bullet on him, he would be dead soon enough.

Nick walked in the direction of Chinatown. The few people he passed looked a little surprised to see a man walking down the street with a sniper rifle over his shoulder. He smiled at them and they looked away. He was amused at the expressions on their faces. This was Liberty City! Where did these people live? Under a rock?

By the time he reached his car he had walked most of the tension out of his muscles. Lying still on a cold roof for eight hours was tough on his body. He didn't feel tired though. He felt elated from the kill. He strolled into the car-park in front of the school hall. People were talking about closing it down. Said it was too dangerous an area for kids. They were right. Nick got in the car, putting his guns in the back. Four Leones! Or was it five? He decided to count it as five. He thought about getting something to eat but decided to go home and pack. Easier to get something at the airport.

Nick drove through the streets of Staunton Island. He felt he had exacted a just revenge. Despite what the Forellis might think he was not entirely without loyalty. The business had been partly his too before the Leones took it down. He didn't blame the Leones for that. He accepted that it was the way things worked. One group could not be on top forever. But they had destroyed the life he had built up and he could not let that go unpunished. He felt as if a weight had been lifted. He had no wish to destroy the Leones and reinstate the Forellis. He knew he had never been fully part of that world. There was only so far a man like him could rise in their organisation. Now was the time for him to put this behind him and get on with his own life. The Leones knew he was not someone they could fuck with and get away with it. That was enough for him.

He turned right onto the Shoreside bridge and headed towards the airport.


	5. The Hitman

The battered Sentinel made its way down the dirt track. It was barely recognisable as the same type of car as the highly polished Sentinels at the end of the driveway. It was old and ramshackle, the duct tape on the doors and windows appeared to be holding the thing together. The car stopped in a clearing at the end of the drive.

A young man got out of the vehicle and examined his surroundings. He looked slowly around him, taking in everything he saw. His eyes passed over the house and the two guards in front of it. Though he seemed outwardly calm his eyes showed he was on guard and alert. Finding nothing that troubled him he stopped a moment and looked out to sea. It was a clear day without a cloud in the sky. The sea was almost blue today, just a hint of its usual grey. It reminded him of summer days when he was younger and his grandfather would take him fishing in the sea around Liberty. The cold wind blew the smell of pine trees and sea salt along with it. _Don't fuck this up_, he told himself, _if you do your career is over_.

He walked towards the house. The two guards standing by the steps exchanged a look as he walked towards them. He looked like what he was, a punk kid. His hair was cut in a short mohican. He thought it made him look like Robert De Niro in Taxi Driver. In reality he looked like a kid with a mohican. He had washed the dye out. His one attempt at tidying himself up for this meeting. A gesture of respect he supposed, though why it should matter was a mystery to him. Still his friend Tuccio had suggested it, and Tuccio knew about these things. His hair stood, bleached white, faded yellow, in contrast to the dark stubble on his shaved scalp. He wore faded and torn black straight-leg jeans. His dark green army jacket almost swamped his slim frame. His pale blue eyes were fierce with determination. His face had a sweet, innocent look which made him look even younger than he was. Personally he wished he looked more bad-ass. Despite his youthful appearance he had been working for the Leone family for almost four years.

He walked confidently towards the guards. He appeared perfectly at ease. "Harvey Williams. I'm here to see Salvatore Leone."

The guard looked him up and down and waited for a minute before walking into the house.

"Wait here" the other guard told him.

Harvey waited till the first guard returned. "You can go in."

He walked up the stairs and into the house. He looked around the room at the unfamiliar surroundings. The place seemed huge to him. It was expensively furnished. Large widows let in the light and looked out over the beach. Paintings and photos covered the walls.

He couldn't believe he was actually in the Dons house. Seeing the place for the first time finally made this all seem real. Didn't make him feel any less nervous though. No-one else was in the room and he was unsure if he should walk further into the house. He started to look around, following a trail of pictures around the room. A noise interrupted him. A young woman, heavily pregnant and with long dark hair down to her waist appeared from a door to the left of the room. She smiled at him, "Through here" she indicated the door she had come through.

He walked into the room after her. It appeared to be an office. Salvatore Leone sat in a chair in front of a desk. His father, Giovanni Leone, sat behind the desk.

Harvey knew Salvatore. He was present at every meeting of the organisation, however small. Everyone knew him. He was the boss, the one who got things done. Orders came through him, whether he made them or not. Salvatore was in his mid-forties. Dark hair was now dark grey. Not especially tall, not especially good-looking, a little overweight. Despite this he had a look about him that said authority.

Then there was Salvatore's father, Giovanni, the Don. A mysterious figure to Harvey. He couldn't remember having seen him before. He didn't interact with the lower members of the organisation. Mainly stayed in his home. He looked like Harvey expected Salvatore would look in twenty years. Shorter, fatter and greyer. But with an air of authority and power which far surpassed his son.

Salvatore got up, "Harvey. Good to see you." Salvatore turned to Giovanni "Pa, this is Harvey Williams, the guy I was telling you about. Harvey, this is Giovanni Leone." Giovanni stood up from behind his desk for a moment and reached over and shook hands with Harvey. "This is Carlotta, my wife" Salvatore indicated the dark-haired woman who had shown Harvey in. "Carlotta, Harvey Williams."

"Nice to meet you" Carlotta said. She turned to Salvatore "I'll go check on Joey and Pia." Salvatore kissed her goodbye and sat down. He waited till she had left the room before speaking.

"Sit down kid." He indicated an empty chair. Harvey sat down. "Lets get down to business." Salvatore said, "You've done good work for the family in the past and we hope you will do more in the future. I'm sure you have heard about the events of last week when four members of our family were slaughtered." Salvatore looked at Harvey. Harvey nodded. "A survivor of the massacre was able to identify the gunman. We believe this man has fled to Vice city."

Giovanni spoke for the first time. "We want you to go down to Vice. Take this guy out." He paused. "Before we go any further we need to know, will you accept this task?."

"If you succeed you will become part of the family." Salvatore added.

Harvey was surprised. Sure he had done a few hits for the Leones but that was small stuff, rival dealers and thugs. Not the kind of people who could take out four armed men. This guy had used a sniper rifle, he was a hitman himself. But could he afford to let this opportunity go? "Sure, I'll take it" he said.

"Good" said Salvatore. "You will leave for Vice tonight." He handed Harvey a picture of a tall, dark-haired man. "This is the guy you're going to kill. Nick Brennan. You've heard of him?" he said, reading the expression on Harvey's face.

Harvey looked at the picture. Nick Brennan. Had he heard of him? Hell yes! Nick Brennan was the most famous and feared hitman in the whole of Liberty. Known for his ruthlessness and apparent ability to dodge bullets. Now he understood why they had offered him this mission. No-one else would be dumb enough to take it. He decided he was dumb enough, and desperate enough to get into the organisation. "Yeah I think I heard of him, some kind of hitman right?"

"Yes, and don't underestimate him. When you're down there don't let him know you're looking for him. Go down there, take him out and leave. Get him quick." Salvatore took a small brown bag from his pocket and threw it to Harvey. "This is money to find a place to stay and buy ammunition while you're down there. The plane ticket is in there too along with an alternative I.D. We cant offer you any contacts as we don't want to alert Brennan to your presence. I'm sure you can find somewhere to buy the artillery you'll need, Vice is known for its relaxed gun laws." He looked at Harvey "Ok?"

"Yeah, but how do I find this guy?"

"All we know for sure is he's somewhere in Vice. We believe he may be working for Tommy Vercetti. Keep your eyes open but don't make it obvious you're looking for him. He shouldn't be hard to find." Salvatore and Giovanni stood up. Harvey stood up too. "Your plane leaves in a few hours time. I'm sure you have things to sort out before then" Salvatore said pointedly. Harvey shook hands with Salvatore and Giovanni. "You understand what you have to do?"

"I understand" Harvey said walking to the door.

"While you're down there you don't contact us and we don't contact you."

"No problem" Harvey exited the door. He walked out of the house, nodding to the guards as he passed them.

Harvey drove down the dirt track in his battered old Sentinel. He checked the money in the bag. Not much. Cheapskates, he thought. He smiled to no-one in particular. He was glad to finally get a chance to prove himself, even if it was by going up against the biggest killer in Libertys history.

Back in the house Salvatore leaned back in his chair. He watched the expression on his fathers face. "You're not happy about that, right Pa?"

"It's nothing to do with me. You know that side of the business is yours now."

"But what do you think?"

"He looks like a street kid. How old is he? He can't even be of age yet."

"He's done good work for us before. Apparently he's some kind of genius with a sniper rifle. He took out Bill Kant, Kysee Lang of the Triads, a whole herd of drug dealers down at the docks.

"This is different. You're sending a boy to do a mans job."

"And who else can we send? We need everyone here to stop the Forellis retaking our land. Besides none of them would go after that psycho."

"What can that kid do for us? It's like a lamb to the slaughter."

"Its not what Brennan will be expecting. At the least it will send a message to him that we will not take this lying down." Salvatore paused. "Maybe the kid will get lucky. And if not? It doesn't matter. He's expendable."


	6. Leavin' On A Jetplane

Harvey pulled up next to the park in Hepburn Heights. He stepped out of the Sentinel into the pale winter sunlight. The wind was strong and brisk. Clouds passed quickly in the sky above him. They sent their shadows scattering across the tarmac. Small children playing in the park ran around in circles, chasing the shadows. When they caught one they jumped on it with yells of victory. Then the shadow moved on and the game began again.

Harvey walked across the park towards his apartment block. He stopped to idly kick a stray ball back to a bunch of older kids playing at the other end of the park. It wasn't so long ago he had been one of them himself. The mothers of the little kids sat on park benches, watching over them and talking to each other. They kept a subtle eye on the older kids across the park.

At night this area was dangerous. Trade from the red light district spilled out onto these streets. Filled with druggies and prostitutes. During the day it was one of the few safe places regular people in liberty could go. No gang had claimed it as their own yet.

Harvey walked towards the block of flats where he lived. Grey concrete and black tarmac never looked inviting at the best of times. In the cold winter light the buildings looked like some kind of industrial complex. A prison, school or factory which hadn't made the grade and so was used to house Liberty's poor. To Harvey it was home. He walked in the main door and started up the long flights of stairs. The lift had arrived at ground floor several years ago and decided to stay. Dirt and wet puddles lined the stairs. Harvey sidestepped them with the ease of years of practice. The stale smell of urine mixed with the sweeter smell of vomit as he passed quickly through the second landing. He moved onwards and upwards.

Arriving on fifth floor he stopped outside the first door on his right. There were several plants in pots outside. Cactus and evergreens, they had to be tough to survive in the harsh environment of the corridor. He unlocked the door and walked in.

"Anna!" he called. He entered to the smell of something good cooking. The apartment was small and cluttered. White walls made the darkness caused by few windows less noticeable.

"You're back, how did it go?" A middle aged woman with greying hair emerged from the kitchen. Anna had been his mothers best friend. Harvey and her son Tuccio had grown up together. Anna and Tuccio had often stayed with Harveys mother when life with Annas husband had got too much. Harveys mother had stayed with them after Harveys father left. After his mother died Harvey had moved in with them.

"Good, real good. Where's Tuccio?"

"He's gone out. He said he'll be back around eight."

"My flight leaves at six."

"So soon?" Anna turned away, moving back into the kitchen. She had never been happy with Harvey and Tuccio going into the business. She had always thought they could do better. She said nothing about it though, they were growing up and moving away from her and she didn't want to push them any further away. It was time for them to make their own decisions.

"Yeah. Did he say where he was going?" Harvey needed to talk this over with Tuccio. He would see this the right way, as something exciting, a huge opportunity. His enthusiasm would transfer to Harvey and break him out of this down mood he was in.

"No, you know Tuccio. Never tells me anything he's doing. We didn't expect you to be leaving so soon. Not tonight."

"Me neither." Harvey stood alone in the room. He wanted to reassure Anna, tell her that he would be back soon, but found himself unable to. He walked over to his room instead. He didn't have much time.

In his room he quickly started to pack. He pulled a bag from under his bed and stuffed a bunch of clothes into it. He walked over to his tape deck and selected some tapes to take with him. He looked around. Well that was pretty much everything he needed. He still had the bag Salvatore had given him in his hand. He shoved it in his shoulder bag and walked over to his bed. He sat down and just sat there, thinking, for a while.

Harvey wished he could say goodbye to Tuccio before he left. He knew he might not see him again. In a way it might be for the best. Tuccio would act like he was happy for Harvey, and mostly he would be. But there would be that edge, that part of him that wanted what he had. It was a competitive business.

Harvey hadn't planned to become a hitman. It had just kind of happened. Tuccio had joined the business after leaving school and it seemed only natural that Harvey would too. He had some skill with guns and had risen quickly. Done well in a few tense situations, kept his cool when it mattered. Made a name for himself through his skill with a sniper rifle. The first hit he had made had been tough. It wasn't like some street battle, where tempers flared and the bullets flew and you had to kill to survive. It was quiet, cold-blooded killing. You could watch your victim, get to know them a little. At first he felt sick at killing another human being, especially in a way that seemed so cowardly to him. But over time he learned to push that feeling to the side and get on with the job. He could lie to himself, tell himself it was ok, pretend they deserved it.

He looked around the place he thought of as home. His bedroom was small, white walls, cold in the winter and too hot in the summer. Everything about it reminded him of how lucky he was to have a room at all. He might never see this place again. He might never see his family again. Anna, the woman he had come to think of as his mother and Tuccio who was his brother and best friend in one. He was leaving them to kill a man, a deed which filled him with revulsion. But he couldn't let this opportunity pass him by. To be part of an organisation such as this, to be accepted as one of them. It was his way not only to a better life but to a life which was significant, which mattered.

He decided to stop thinking and finish packing. When he was done he said his goodbyes quickly and left, not wanting to linger. On his way from his flat to his car he took a closer look at his new ID. Derek Anderson, Michigan, born 1965. It was well-done, very convincing. Even to him, a veteran of fake IDs. He reached the car and started up the engine, sticking a Replacements tape in the tape-deck as he did so.

He arrived at the airport and bought his ticket. He went through the boarding procedure with a mixture of excitement at first, and then boredom as it dragged on. He felt he aroused a little suspicion by paying for such a long flight with cash, but no-one questioned him or attempted to stop him.

On the plane he watched out of the window as it took off. He hadn't been on a plane in a long time. He watched the land grow further away and then the tops of the clouds as the plane climbed higher.

He felt himself falling into sleep. Someone tapped him on the shoulder. "Fasten your seatbelt please. The plane will be landing soon." The flight attendant moved on to the seats ahead of him. Harvey looked around. People were getting ready to land, parents calling their children to them, people putting away books and sitting back, packing away their air-plane distractions and discarding rubbish.

Harvey watched out the window as the plane descended. The scenery looked similar to Liberty. Except much brighter. The sea was a shining blue, there were people on the beaches. The city was filled with the same buildings, skyscrapers and slums, but it seemed somehow cleaner, fresher.

When the plane had landed and people started to disembark Harvey got up. He walked to the front of the plane. He called a cheerful goodbye in response to the air stewardesses who stood by the doors. He walked down the ladder and his feet touched down on hard tarmac. So this was Vice city. The sun almost blinded him as he looked up at the blue sky. He had been here before, as a child, with his parents. He didn't remember it being this hot. He took off his heavy green army jacket. Underneath he wore a white vest which revealed his pale body. Despite his slim frame his musculature was well defined. Another look he stole from Taxi Driver. This one had worked out better. Taken him long enough though. He didn't mind. He liked exercise, he enjoyed running, that change from the mental to the physical. From being trapped inside your body to being purely your body. It silenced the storm of his mind for a while. Gave him a quiet where he did not have to think.

He made his way through the airport, thinking of the last time he had been here.


	7. Annihilate This Week

It was a beautiful sunny day in Vice City. Nick cruised down Ocean Beach in his newly acquired Stinger, top down and breeze in his hair. He pulled up outside a hotel, lowered the window and flicked cigarette ash out onto the sidewalk. He got out of the car slowly, smoothing back his hair, surreptitiously checking for cops. He took off his sunglasses, ready to do business, and strolled towards the hotel.

The Vice City Inn. A group of suits sat round one of the tables out front. "You Brennan?" a businessman type asked as Nick approached the table.

"Depends. You got the money?" Over the next few minutes Nick negotiated a good price for his goods. He left the table several hundred dollars richer. Easiest money he had made all week.

Nick got back in his car and started it up. He made a U-turn, heading in the direction of the bridge to Little Havana.

He didn't have unlimited funds and Vice was an expensive place to live. His original plan to open a place selling off stolen and resprayed cars hadn't worked out. Turns out Tommy Vercetti had already thought of that. Sunshine Auto's was the only place in town to go if you wanted a cheap and dubiously acquired sports car. Then there was his back-up plan to sell drugs from some kind of mobile goods vehicle, an ice cream van maybe. There was some guy doing that in Liberty a couple of years back. Turns out Vercetti had stolen that idea too. He figured he could always make some money driving a cab, but Vercetti owned the only taxi company in town. So he had fallen back on his one time job of drug dealer. It was work that brought into use his ability to buy low, sell high and his wide knowledge of the criminal underworld. But it had its drawbacks, Vice city's cops were far more in evidence than those in Liberty and in their brown uniforms they blended in with the scenery dangerously well. Also it involved dealing with people, and Nick hated people. It brought in the money, it was ok work for now, but soon he would move on to something better. He was almost thirty-five, it was time he had a criminal empire of his own.

Nick pulled out onto the most southern of bridges connecting the two halves of Vice City. He had no more contacts left so he decided to head downtown, sell some overpriced goods to tourists or teenagers.

Nick drove across the bridge and up along the long coast road to Downtown. He turned on the radio and idly switched between the channels, pop to rock to chat. He didn't much care for music, or chat neither, so he searched through the channels for some news. It paid to keep informed with what was happening in Vice. Finding some he listened for a while but it was only politicians arguing out some issues and he soon got bored and turned over. He stuck with the commercials for a while, then turned the radio off when a song started. He was in Downtown now. He drove through narrow shop-lined streets. The afternoon sun shone down hard, rays reflecting off shop windows into Nick's eyes. This was a confusing area, mazelike, as much so as the Cuban or Haitian districts.

Nick found a good place, in a car park outside an office block, just down the road from the Tacopalypse, near enough to the stadium to guarantee a steady stream of both bored teenagers and bored office workers.

Nick got out of the car and waited. He didn't have to wait long. Goods went fast and within an hour he had sold out. He leaned back against the car and debated what to do next. He had enough money to last him several weeks, or he could spend it all tonight. Spending it tonight seemed like the most sensible option. It was still early though. Not even six. Most places wouldn't be open yet. Well he could go to the Malibu, that was always open. He set off towards the road, leaving the car behind, it was out of gas.

On reaching the road Nick stepped out in front of a pale blue Cheetah. It screeched to a halt. Nick pulled a scantily clad woman out of the drivers seat and she ran off in the direction of Tacopalypse. He got in the car and drove off in search of the bridge to the east island.

In the Malibu Nick ordered whisky and ice and sat down at a table. It had taken a little money to convince the bouncers that his "I'm a regular person not a drug dealer" outfit passed the dress-code but he was in now and that was what mattered. He looked around him. The club was almost empty. The dancefloor was lit but the music was quiet, no-one was dancing. A few people sat at the bar or on the small tables scattered around the club. Nick was disappointed. He liked being around people. Well he liked watching them. Like those two at the bar. A young couple, unsure of what they were doing and what they wanted from each other. The man offered the woman more compliments than she could hold. Everytime she tried to change the conversation to more mundane topics he built it up again. Nick liked to watch people strive, try their hardest, and fall flat on their faces. Fed that part inside that knew he was better. Working and reaching out for nothing. He hated them all. These two might go home together, marry and divorce. Didn't matter, they would be alone in the end, like people should be.

Nick looked away, distracted, as a woman crossed his path. She was blonde, early twenties, attractive enough but too wholesome looking to be truly beautiful. She looked lost. She was just what he needed. She smiled apologetically at him as she tried to squeeze past his table.

"Oh I'm sorry!" he jumped up as she made it past.

"Uh, that's ok." she said, confused.

"I knocked you with the table. Are you alright?" he asked.

"Oh I'm fine, I don't think you hit me, I mean I didn't notice."

This was going to be easy. "Well let me get you a drink to make up for it." He pulled out the chair for her. She smiled up at him, she had a pretty smile. "Malibu and coke please."

He went and got their drinks, slipped a little powder into hers, then came back to their table.

"So you live in Vice City?" he asked.

She told him about herself. She could really talk when she got going. He was glad he wouldn't have to do this for long. In return Nick gave the right answers, yes he was from a small town too, just moved to Vice, didn't know many people neither, hard to get to know people in a place like this. He saw now that she was not as attractive as he originally thought. She was a little too fat for Vice City. She smiled at him again, almost gratefully. No wonder, she was maybe a six, on a good day. He was at least a nine. Didn't matter, he could start off slow, move on to better things later in the night.

She took a sip of her drink and was quiet for a moment. It seemed to be taking effect.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yeah" she passed her hand across her face. "Just a tough day."

"Work huh? I know what you mean." There was a pause. He started as though he had just thought of it. "I'm sorry, I didn't ask you your name?"

"Uh, Amy" she said slowly, "Amy Collins."

"Really, that's a beautiful name, it suits you." She was quiet. "So you said you live on Ocean Beach. That must be a nice place to live."

"It is, well it isn't really, you know."

"Yeah. Still not feeling so good?"

"No" she shook her head. "I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong."

"That's ok. Maybe you just need to get some air." He stood and helped her up. He walked her outside, giving an apologetic glance to the bouncers as they passed.

Outside it was still light. Nick propped Amy up against a wall. "Feeling any better?'

She shook her head.

"Good. Come on, I've got something to show you.' He led her towards the alley he had noticed the last time he was here.


End file.
